I may have to think as a fish.  I am not a very good fisherman and it occurred to me if I want to do better I may have to view the water I am fishing from the point of view of the fish.  Is the water warm, cold or whatever.  Does the particular fish I am going for going to like the bait I am dangling before it.  I am not very good at this.  Maybe, it really does not matter.  All I want to do is be outside.  At least, have an excuse.  I no longer eat the fish I caught.  I simply want to throw them back.  So maybe all this discussion is futile.  I don’t care enough what the fish thinks.

A snow storm was coming.  The waitress said, “I don’t care, I don’t work tomorrow, let it snow.”

I overheard another say, that later the snow will be heavy–a few inches an hour.

The person I was sitting next to said, ‘Lancaster will get it worse.’

There were all kind of rumors floating about the oncoming storm.

I heard an fragment of a conversation regarding the policy of gays in the military, “If it is not broke don’t fix it.”  And then, ‘If someone comes out, they will be killed.’

All this while I was enjoying my bottomless cup of coffee.

On the way home I briefly stopped at the shore of the Susquehanna River, as I often do after I stop at the diner, quickly glanced at the River’s surface, which seemed pretty calm.  There was no indication a storm was set to arrive in a few hours.

I saw someone must have  launched a boat in the River.  A truck was parked there.  It must have been a die hard fisherman.  It was bitterly cold and the middle of winter.  I shrugged my shoulders.  I finally went home.